


The Unlikely Form of Truth

by space_canada



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, camelids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_canada/pseuds/space_canada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a tough job being the best friend of a world-famous, pop sensation. </p><p>Especially so when you might be a bit in love with him if only you'd let yourself think about it. </p><p>Especially especially so when he turns up at your flat at two am and he's got hooves and large woolly ears. </p><p>Nick doesn't know what he's done to deserve this, but he's really very sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unlikely Form of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Relatively new to this fandom, still slightly unsure how I found myself here. So have compensated for the uncertainty by writing ridiculous magical realism fic.
> 
> I'm sorry. 
> 
> Parts 2 and 3 to follow shortly.

In Nick’s wild, pre-Breakfast Show days, a phone call in the early hours would generally have consisted of jolly, drunken incoherence, an expression of undying affection and some kind of demand for food.

Since the advent of his spanking new healthy lifestyle, however, a two am phone call contained less merriment and more grumpy somnanbulance and there was a high risk Nick might wander back into dreamland mid-sentence.

Thus, normally, when his phone rang at night, he ignored it. Tonight though, as his phone trilled for the fourth time in a row, somehow managing to sound increasingly agonised with each ring, feigning deafness did not appear to be an option.

Flinging an arm out from the bed and flailing it around eventually managed to scoop the phone (plus his alarm clock, plus a crumpled tissue, plus a tab of aspirin) onto the pillow in the vicinity of his face and, having positioned it vaguely near his ear, Nick mashed at the screen with one finger and hoped his phone understood the intention.

“Helloooo?” hissed a staticky, and vaguely familiar voice. “Nick? Grimmy?”

Nick prised one sleep-sticky eye open to look at the caller ID. Then, startled, he sat up. “Liam?”

It wasn’t that it was unusual for him to hear from members of One Direction, it was just that it was unusual for him to hear from members of One Direction that weren’t Harry.

“Grimmy, thank god.” Liam sounded far happier to hear Nick’s voice than he ever had been in the recollectable past. “I…,” he paused and there was some shuffling and muttering in the background, “I’m really sorry, but I need your help.”

“Is everything okay?” Nick said, starting to feel a faint edge of panic, and then, “Why are you ringing me at two in the morning? Is Harry okay?”

Somewhere in his head, Aimee cackled at him. Nick would deal with her imaginary mocking later, once he’d ascertained there had been no disaster.

“Harry’s um…,” Liam sounded vaguely strangled, and the faint edge of panic in Nick’s belly began to blossom into a roaring tide. He got out of bed, legs a bit wobbly.

“What happened?” Nick hissed.

“No, no, it’s…Oh god. Look. Are you alone?”

It was only by some statistic-defying fluke that tonight the answer to that was yes. “ _Yes_ , I’m alone. Where are you? What happened? What do you need?”

More shuffling and Nick thought he could make out an odd hissing noise in the background. He was starting to feel rather sick. “Liam!”

“Right, sorry,” the line cleared and Liam’s voice came back through, suddenly sounding determined. “Look, we’re…we’re actually outside your building. Round the, um, round the back. Ow, _shit_! Get off you, you…” he was panting.

“Are you being attacked?” Nick demanded.

“ _No_! Well, yes, but just by…Oh christ. Look, can we just come up? Please?”

Up until this point, Nick hadn’t been aware that Liam Payne, member of one of the UK’s biggest boybands actually knew where he lived. He sensed, however, that this might be a point to be raised at another time. Perhaps when his small and large intestine weren’t engaged in a cannibalistic war of attrition. “I’ll buzz you in,” he said, and then belatedly, “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

“You’ll see,” Liam said, rather darkly, and hung up.

*-*-*-*

It took a good deal longer than the two corridors and three flights of stairs warranted for there to be a knock on Nick’s front door. He’d been contemplating heading out on a rescue mission but he was clad in only a pair of boxers with an unfortunate hole and, well, the events of the past ten minutes were starting to feel slightly surreal and he felt rather outside of his comfort zone.

When he finally wrenched open the door, three things immediately struck him.

Firstly, Liam looked on the verge of a breakdown and pathetically grateful to see Nick (this would be flattering, but instead it inspired a hint of foreboding – much as he’d like it to be otherwise, it had been proven over the years that Nick was not capable of calm, rational thought in a crisis. Panicking was much more his forte).

Secondly, Liam was holding a long, twisted piece of rope that was attached to god only knows what, out of sight to the side of the doorway.

And thirdly, there was a small, delicate-looking kitten perched on his shoulder. It was a light silvery colour, with darker grey circular markings and luminous blue eyes. Many tiny claws were sunk into the material of Liam’s jacket in what looked like a death grip. Liam had a vivid red scratch on the side of his neck.

“What…” Nick started, found himself unable to finish and then decided that, actually, given the circumstances, that was valid as an entire question. “ _What?_ ”

Liam looked sheepishly down at the floor. The kitten poked his cheek with a paw, and chirruped. It sounded concerned.

Nick blinked and tried shaking his head to clear it.

“Can I come in?” Liam asked. “I really think it might be better to do this inside.”

“I…um. Yes. Okay. In you…Yeah, just get in here.” Thank god Nick didn’t talk for a living or anything. He rallied. “Where’s Harry? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Liam said, looking about as sad as it was possible to with a kitten trying to climb down into your collar, purring obnoxiously the whole while. “I can honestly say I have no idea.” He laughed. It seemed a tad hysterical to Nick.

Pulling the door open, he stepped back and ushered Liam through. At first Liam proceeded normally, but then the rope he was carrying seemed to run out and he came to an abrupt halt in Nick’s hallway. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, marking one of perhaps five times Nick had ever heard Liam swear. He yanked hard on the rope. “It’s Nick’s apartment, Nick’s in it, since when were you ever _shy_ …”

There was an enormous gusty sigh from somewhere to the left of Nick’s front door and then, after a pause, what seemed to be a nose appeared. The nose was followed by two huge, liquid brown eyes, a mess of crazy brown curls and a pair of woolly, banana-shaped ears.

Liam gave the rope another determined yank and a long neck, a narrow body and four gangly, knobbly limbs that looked about eight times too big also came into frame. Oh, and hooves, mustn’t forget the hooves.

“Harrumph?” the creature said. It looked enquiring, and somehow…hopeful.

“Oh my god,” Nick said faintly and groped behind him for the wall. The creature immediately looked sorrowful and started trying to reverse. Liam got behind it and slammed the front door with an air of victory. The kitten somehow managed to look smug. It was apparent to all involved that it was taking Liam’s side in whatever the hell this was.

There was an agonising moment of silence.

“So,” Liam eventually said, one hand going up to curl around the kitten. “You were asking about Harry…”

“Is…is that an _alpaca_?” Nick hissed.

Liam looked rather uncomfortable. “Well, yes,” he said. “Yes, it is. An alpaca and also, um, sort of Harry?”

The alpaca chose this moment to shake several wayward brown curls out of its eyes.

“Oh my god,” Nick said again. “Why is there an _alpaca_ in my _hallway_?”

The alpaca and Liam both looked terribly apologetic. Nick had to close his eyes.

“It’s a long story,” Liam said, “but well, the upshot of it is that we didn’t really know where to go. And the only place Harry didn’t seem wildly opposed to was…here.”

The alpaca looked at Nick mournfully. It had sad puppy dog eyes exactly the same as Harry’s sad puppy dog eyes. The urge to hug rose in Nick, entirely Pavlovian. He repressed it ruthlessly.

“And the kitten?” he eventually asked, after a period of silence during which no one jumped out to claim credit for a marvellous prank. To be honest, the kitten seemed the least of anyone’s worries. “Don’t tell me, that’s Louis.”

There was a very tense silence.

“ _What_ ,” Nick spat. “Are you…tell me you aren’t being serious right now. Just. Tell me.”

The kitten looked mightily offended and made a noise like a tiny, angry sewing machine. Liam looked agonised.

“Oh christ,” Nick muttered, and ran a hand through his hair. “I need a drink. A very big drink. Many very big drinks. Perhaps an entire bar.”

“Okay,” Liam agreed.

There was another silence, as Nick tried to remember how to move his legs, into which the alpaca farted loudly.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Liam said, looking scandalised. The kitten seemed to sneer slightly. The alpaca on the other hand twitched its ears in what seemed to be amusement.

It was at this point that Nick decided he absolutely, completely, categorically must be dreaming.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot claim zoological accuracy on this fic. I have only met one alpaca in my life and it was, sadly, very uncharitable. Potentially, the encounter would have been hugely improved had it actually been Harry Styles in camelid form but sadly, I think this one was a non-magical alpaca. 
> 
> Such is life.


End file.
